


Of Herbal Tea, Cowboys & Unicorns

by Chiyume



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angry Dean, Angry Dean Winchester, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Brothers, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Canon Relationships, Canon verse, Caring Sam, Caring Sam Winchester, Castiel is Missing, Chick-Flick Moments, Cowboys, Dean in Denial, Destiel - Freeform, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt, Emotionally Hurt Dean, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Episode: s08e18 Freaks and Geeks, Ficlet, Freaks and Geeks - Freeform, Good Brother Sam Winchester, Heart-to-Heart, Herbal tea, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Implied Relationships, Implied Slash, Light Angst, Motel, Other, Protective Sam Winchester, Relationship Discussions, Sad Dean, Sad Dean Winchester, Talking, Unicorns, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:34:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/pseuds/Chiyume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wants to talk about Dean's feelings after Castiel and his encounter in Lucifer's crypt.<br/>Dean on the other hand, does not, so Sam resorts to some rather unconventional methods to get his brother to open up, all according to Dean's own (albeit perhaps not intentional) instructions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Herbal Tea, Cowboys & Unicorns

**Author's Note:**

> A ficlet written ages ago, inspired by [this scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MnMgaYb0KfU) in 8x18

 

* * *

When Dean got back to the motel after his beer run, Sam was waiting for him by the dinner table.

Sam saw the way his brother stilled in the doorway when he spotted him sitting there. Dean’s hand lingered on the handle for just a split second before he closed the door and walked past his younger sibling, ignoring the pointed look that was sent his way as he made his way to the kitchen area.

Sam noticed the way Dean’s eyes drifted towards the thermos and the two takeaway coffee mugs sitting on top of the tattered surface of the table as he passed, but he made no comment on them. Sam in turn, didn’t say anything either. 

The audible clink of glass that sounded when Dean put the six-pack of bottles down onto the kitchen counter seemed to shatter the air inside the motel room like a sledgehammer to a church bell. It immediately got followed by the harsh sound of cardboard tearing when he then proceeded to rip a bottle out of the packaging.

Sam was fully aware of the fact that his brother was ignoring him, but he was in no hurry. Patiently, he  fixed his gaze onto the back of Dean’s jacket in silence while he waited. When Dean finally turned around, he could tell by the way those green eyes darted between him and the items on the table that he had already won.

“So,” Dean tried, wringing the cap of his beer off and tossing into the sink with a sharp clank of metal. “You called Garth about our little Scooby Squad problem?”

“I did.” Sam answered truthfully and Dean’s eyes made another quick detour to the table before settling on him again.

“Well,” he urged. “What did he say?”

“That he’ll be checking in on them in a few days.” Sam shrugged, making a point not to use more words than absolutely necessary.

“Alright,” Dean nodded. “Good, that’s… good…” 

He brought the bottle to his lips, swallowing down a large gulp of beer while Sam continued to concentrate on the task of drilling a pair of miniature holes into the side of his brother’s face with his eyes. 

Dean leaned back against the counter, nursing the bottle in his hand while pretending to read the label. Once again, the motel room fell silent, the seconds ticking by seemingly stretching on for years until Dean finally looked back up, motioning to the table with the drink in his hand.

“What’s that?” he asked with feigned disinterest and Sam glanced at the thermos before slowly returning to look his brother pointedly in the eye.

“Herbal tea.”

The halfway-there smile that had been about to form on Dean’s face immediately disappeared, his jaw clenching tight as his shoulders squared defensively.

“No,” he growled, ripping the door to the refrigerator open and tossing the rest of the beer inside with a sharp clutter, making Sam roll his eyes to the ceiling.

“I know, it’s not the same without the Cowboy Junkies, but they were busy,” he quipped, sensing where things were heading. 

“I said no,” Dean snapped back.

“You’re the one who wanted us to be honest with each other,” Sam objected, motioning to the space between them. “I know this whole thing with the tablet hit you harder than you want to admit, but damnit… Dean you have to at least be able to _talk_ about it.”

Dean threw the refrigerator door shut with a bang, sending Sam a warning glare as he turned around to face him.

“Listen, I don’t know which Dr. Phil episode you’ve been watching while I was out, but there’s nothing to talk about,” Dean snarled. “I don’t need your little DIY therapy.”

“Cut the act, Dean,” Sam said flatly. “I’ve seen you lie more times than I can count; I can tell when you’re trying to pull a fast one.”

“Well, congratulations to you then,” Dean muttered, mouthing down another swig of his beer. Sam sighed ruefully.

“Dean, I just want to help you—”

“Then how about you get off my goddamn back?” Dean sneered, but Sam only shook his head slowly, clenching his jaw.

“You know I can’t do that.” 

He sighed, throwing his hands out to the side as he leaned back into his chair.

“It’s your choice, man,” he said. “We can do this now and get it all over with…”

“Or?” Dean asked challengingly.

“Or, I’ll keep nagging you about it until you give up.” Sam announced firmly.

Dean glared at him, every inch of the current, viscous loathing he felt for his younger brother pouring into the stare, but Sam had expected no less. He met the look head on, calm and steady while he counted the seconds inside his head until he saw Dean’s shoulders slouch and the tightness of the other’s jaw lessen.

“Alright, Samantha…” Dean muttered, pulling out the chair on the opposite side of the table, sitting down with a glare towards the cups. “If you wanna play shrink so badly…”

Sam licked his lips, feeling the sarcasm radiate off of his sibling as he nodded in the direction of the thermos.

“If it makes you feel any better there’s just coffee in that thing,” he offered. “They didn’t have tea back at the reception.”

Dean slowly let the dirty glower slide from the cups back to his brother and Sam cleared his throat, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the plunge.

“So… About Cas…” he started and Dean promptly sagged into his chair with an exaggerated groan.

“Could you be serious for like, ten seconds?” Sam sighed. Dean rolled his eyes to the ceiling, obviously not interested in following the suggestion.

“So the guy beat me up, big deal.” he snorted. “It’s not like it’s the first time that’s happened…” he added testily.

“It’s not about that and you know it,” Sam retorted. “I mean, sure he healed you and all, but then you told me he just upped and left, and I figured—”

“Listen,” Dean snapped. “If that feathery bastard wants to run away, then fine. He can do whatever the fuck he wants, I don’t care.“

“Really?” Sam asked skeptically, raising a brow at him.

“Yeah, _really_ ,” Dean snarled back. “He’s a frickin’ angel, remember? It’s not as if I could keep him from leaving anyway…” he muttered.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t wish you could,” Sam countered. Dean’s eyes instantly turned icy and hard in response.

“Don’t,” he growled.

“No.” Sam straightened up, arms defiantly crossing over his chest once more. “If you’re not going to talk about, then I am.”

“Good, then you go ahead and talk,” Dean snapped, getting up from his chair. “But I don’t have to stay and listen to this horsecrap!”

“You wanna know what I think?” Sam continued mercilessly, ignoring his brother’s apparent intention of leaving, “I think you’re scared out of you wits that he won’t come back.”

“Shut you mouth!” Dean snarled.

“I mean, that’s why you keep praying to him every night, isn’t it?”

The older Winchester’s jaw shut with a mute click of teeth, staring at Sam as if he couldn’t believe that his brother had just brought that up.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hissed, turning his back towards the table. Sam let out a disbelieving snort.

“C’mon, Dean,” he winced. “I’m not blind! Wherever we go you always find some excuse to leave the very moment we check in to our room. There’s never enough gas in the Impala or beer in the fridge; just like tonight. And don’t you even try,” he warned when he heard Dean draw a sharp breath to retort. “You were gone for over an _hour_ and the store’s not even two blocks away. It took you an _hour_ to get a pack of _beer_ , Dean.”

The back of Dean’s jacket remained silent, the other man’s shoulders defensively squared. Sam didn’t need to see it to know what his big brother’s face looked like. Jaw tight, eyes hard and distant.. Throat working to hold back whatever insults he longed to throw Sam’s way as he stared into the grim curtains hanging by the window on the opposite wall. 

Sam sighed, slumping back down into his seat. The air was loaded, thick and heavy in the space between them. Sam knew that all it took was a single word uttered in the wrong tone or in the wrong context to make the fire and brimstone hail down on him like judgment day, because he was out on deep water here. 

He knew why Dean didn’t want to talk about this. He understood what a delicate subject it was and what consequences it could have on the two of them, but he swallowed it all down nonetheless. When he opened his mouth to speak, Dean’s shoulders tensed even further, awaiting whatever it was that he had to say.

“Does he ever answer?” Sam asked quietly, looking at the bottle in his brother’s hand where Dean’s fingers were gripping around the glass container like a vice. When Sam’s words registered inside the other man’s head, those fingers gripped even tighter, knuckles whitening dangerously against the dark material of the glass while Dean’s head canted down to stare at the stained carpet inbetween his feet

Sam would take that as a ‘no’.

“You think it’s because he can’t or…?”

“I don’t know, okay,” Dean snapped over his shoulder and Sam retreated. The room went quiet again, with only the muffled sounds from the parking lot outside drifting in through the thin walls to break the silence. Somewhere in the night a car alarm went off, only to be abruptly silenced after just a few seconds. Shortly after there was the unmistakable sound of an engine being heard rumbling off into the distance.

The minutes ticked by, slow and sickeningly silent. Sam could hear his brother drink repeatedly out of his bottle and he was just about ready to add this attempt to make Dean open up to his already growing list of failures, when the low gravel of his brother’s voice pulled him back to reality.

 “You know he told me once that he’d always come whenever I called him?”

Sam glanced up, remaining silent.

“He told me he’d always do whatever I’d ask…” Dean continued, looking down at the bottle in his hand, sounding as if he was talking to himself more than to Sam. “But… ever since Purgatory it’s like he doesn’t ever care anymore.”

“I thought—” Sam interjected hesitantly, watching the other’s body language for any indications that his opinion was not wanted; terrified of ruining this sudden, uncharacteristic moment of honesty from his usually so stubborn sibling. 

“I mean, didn’t you say that he was controlled by someone else back then?” he coaxed gently.

“Yeah, and now he’s not,” Dean retorted grimly, turning around while throwing his hands out towards the rest of the room. “So where the hell is he?” he demanded. “If he’s himself again then why doesn’t he answer me?”

“Maybe he’s hiding?” Sam suggested, “He did say that he needed to protect the tablet.”

“From _us_?” Dean’s voice cracked. “We’re the ones he’s supposed to _trust!_ We’re the ones he’s supposed to come to when he’s in trouble! Fuck, I _told_ him that he was fa—” He cut himself off, bringing the bottle to his lips to drink deeply from it once more as he turned his back to his brother for a second time.

“It feels off, man…” he mumbled. “I mean, for all we know he might still be dragged around in Heaven’s leash…Or worse.”

The fingers curling around the bottleneck in Dean’s grip tightened ominously.

“I’m telling you, if I ever get my hands on that Naomi bitch…” he growled. By the table Sam nodded silently in agreement because, yeah, he could picture that meeting. 

Dean brought his drink back up to gulp down another swig of his beer, but frowned when he found the bottle to be empty.

“Fuck it…” he muttered, tossing it into the trashcan by the TV. “I don’t even know why I bother anymore.”

Sam let out a low snort and Dean immediately shot him a suspicious glare over his shoulder.

“What?” he demanded testily. Sam shook his head.

“Nothing, just… I mean, it’s not exactly hard to figure out that you care for the guy.”

“Meaning?” Dean prompted and Sam shrugged, willing his smile down when he heard the tight tone of the other’s voice.

“Meaning that he’s valuable to you,” he clarified, “He’s special. I mean, with the way you talk, or rather, the way you _don’t_ talk about him, it’s like… I don’t know. As if Cas is this… magical, rainbow unicorn that you’ve had around for ages, and now it’s gone missing.”

He looked up at his brother and Dean’s brow slowly furrowed, confusion clouding his face. Then his jaw slackened, his tongue darting out to swipe across his lower lip.

“Was that supposed to be some kind of gay joke?” he asked incredulously and Sam’s eyes widened.

“No,” he promised. “No, I just meant that—”

“Because it sure as hell sounded like one to me,” Dean snapped, his voice rising threateningly, making Sam grit his teeth, because _really?!_

“Cas pulled you out of _Hell_ ,” he reminded firmly and the anger building behind his brother’s eyes stilled. 

“He _rebelled_ against Heaven and even went to _Purgatory_ for you. Now I know that you’re going to roll your eyes and pretend like that’s not a big deal, but I’m your _brother,_  Dean. I can tell when something is important to you and right now Cas _is_.”

He sighed, rubbing his hand across his face in search for the right words.

“All I’m saying is that the thing you have with Cas is _different_ ,” he reasoned. “You have a past that I will never be able to understand, no matter how hard I try, but that doesn’t make it a _bad_ thing. And it’s _okay_ for you to worry about him, because that’s what you do when you lo—” 

He cut himself off when the tightness returned to Dean’s eyes and he looked away. Fixing his eyes on the table in front of him, he swallowed once before raising his gaze back up to meet with his brother’s stern face. “When you _care_ for someone,” he ended simply.

Dean didn’t say anything. The dark veil clouding the otherwise so bright green hue of his eyes seemed to pull closer, like storm clouds rolling in over the horizon. It made something in his gaze shift, bringing feelings that were never meant to show bubbling to the surface faster than Dean could hide them. 

The muscles in his jaw and throat flexed, working furiously beneath the rough exterior of his skin while Sam continued to stare him down, the moments passing in silence while none of them uttered a word.

Then the anger suddenly seemed to drain away from Dean’s face, the hard lines of his jaw loosening slowly. For a moment Sam thought he saw something like relief or gratitude flicker in the depths of his brother’s eyes before they turned away from him, locking onto a spot just above the sink The spell was quickly broken, however, when Dean then proceeded to roll his eyes to the ceiling, snorting out a patronizing chuckle.

 “Wow, Sammy…” he jibed. “Did the Dr. Phil show teach you that one?”

“Very funny.” Sam sighed, knowing without having to be told that the moment was over. True enough, Dean shook his head, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

“You know what, I’m done,” he announced, hauling up the car keys from his back pocket. “You can stay here and have your little tea party if you want; I’m going out for a burger.”

He resolutely marched across the room and opened the door—undoubtedly to truly leave this time—but just as he was about to step outside, Sam turned towards him.

“Hey…” he mumbled and Dean froze in the doorway, one foot still inside the room with his fingers clutching the handle. Sam licked his lips, looking up at his brother to meet his gaze when Dean turned his head to glance back at him.

“Tell Cas I said hi, will you?”

Dean straightened up, that same cold expression as the one before flashing across his face. Sam waited. 

There was a slightest tilt of the head, barely enough to see with the naked eye, and then the door to the motel room closed with a silent thud; the sound of heavy footsteps walking across gravel soon followed by the familiar growl of another roaring engine disappearing down the road.

When Dean returned several hours later, Sam was sitting curled up with his laptop on his bed, the thermos and the two takeaway cups nowhere to be seen.

Neither of them mentioned it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading <3  
> Have a great day!


End file.
